Friday, December 13, 2013

Beyond the Signs – Chapter 8 excerpt



Responsibilities and Issues

Even though my life seemed to be moving in a positive way and things were working out the way they should, I never once left behind the thought that at any given time, something could go afoul and muster a world of dust. What I mean is reality. No matter how much a person tries to avoid reality, it never goes away. Just when it seems like everything is fine and dandy, something will inevitably jump up and bite you right in the ass.
I have never been fond of banks. Past experience has led me to believe that they are just not trustworthy. At this point, I must at least have a checking account so I figured; what the hell. I might as well have a savings account too. That ran into problems which I never anticipated. I learned really fast that when automatic payments are set-up, that money must be in the proper account on time. If it’s not, well, penalties are a sure thing.
This is when I realized how little responsibility I had during the years I was homeless. Basically, there were no bills that I could manage because I had no money. I could name all my outstanding debts on one hand and have fingers left over. True, those are fairly large bills and there was no way in Hell I could pay on them so unfortunately they never reduced but instead increased in size due to interest. The good part is I didn’t need to worry about the bills. The bad part – now I feel that I must pay on them since I do have income.
When a person is homeless, and the only income gained is from flying a sign or working under-the-table jobs, money goes for items used for survival. Comfort items are another item that are often overlooked, such as deodorant, toothpaste, and items that ordinarily would be considered hygiene. True, a large portion of the money goes towards non-necessities, but for the most part it’s for sleeping bags, clothing, food, whatever is needed for the basics.
I shopped around and found a bank that I felt comfortable with so I had a checking and savings account established. Since I was still fresh off the streets, I bit off a little more than I could chew. The reality alarm sounded when ordering items online and using a debit card, while signing up for direct payment on many monthly bills, all collectively formed a fricken mess. Even though I had money in the bank, there were times when it just simply didn’t cross my mind to transfer funds from savings to checking to cover all of my purchases. It doesn’t take long to realize that the end of the month rolls around rather quickly. By the third month of having my bank accounts, website, cellular phone, etc., I visited my online checking account balance and found it in the red, highlighting a shit-pile of thirty-five dollar overdraft fees. Fortunately, my overdraft protection paid these bills so I never received any of those lovely notices that state; Insufficient Funds. A quick click or two of my computer mouse generated a fund transfer from savings to checking to rectify the foul-up but the fact still remained that the bank had paid these bills and also stuck me for over a hundred bucks for doing so. Damn that hurt.
This happened a second time when I found myself standing in front of the cashier at my favorite department store. Talk about embarrassed, I felt like I was on top of the world, sporting decent clothes and nice boots, whipping out my debit card like it was some sort of fashion statement. Well, to me it was. Heck, I had never even used one, even before I went homeless. I thought; I’m right up with the big boys now, by golly! Then came the disappointing words from the cashier, right in front of God and everybody, “Sir, this card has been declined.”
Shit!
I could feel my face turning four different shades of red, including purple, as I tucked tail and headed out the door. I never looked behind me until I hopped on the bus. After swapping money around at the bank, I jumped back on the bus, went back to the same store and gathered the same items. I made damn sure I found the same cashier to check my items. I don’t really think it made a rat’s ass in Honky-Town to the cashier or to anyone else that I did have money, but it sure did make me feel better to whip out that damn debit card and pay for those items.

Until next time,
Kirk Toncray

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